[color=00a99d]"didja want something?"[/color]

The beaming demon didn’t make a move when questioned, only gave a low hiss as he pressed hot air out through his teeth like a machine releasing steam. Oh, how delightful, a little lycan. He twitched as the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and a [i]brilliant[/i] idea washed over him. Using the whole of his hand, he slowly pushed away the bony veil from his view and cranked his neck to again survey the room and all its pawns. [@SilverWolfAngel]

[color=teal]"M'not a bleedin bard."[/color] 

Immediately, Jargo focused on the slurred voice of the tossed man a mere arm’s reach away, moving like a slippery snake to bring himself at Dirion’s side as if comforting an old friend.

[color=gray]”Oh, gasp! What is this I see?”[/color]

Over-exaggerated and far too loud, the demon’s scratchy voice carried like a bad note into the whole of the tavern as he reached for a perfectly normal patch of skin on Dirion’s neck. However, as Jargo’s unclean hand retreated, warm blood smeared along the places his fingertips touched--leaving behind no cuts only crimson stains. To add to his dramatization, he quickly plucked the nearest dagger from the bar wood with his free hand and placed it into the drunk’s grasp, assuming the alcohol would inspire rash paranoia as he showed off his other bloodied appendage.

[color=gray]”Oh, my! Looks like you are the [i]bloodiest[/i] of us all.[/color]

[@ViolentViolet] Flicking his crazed gaze across the room, he knew he would need to move fast before the gray beauty could sink her teeth in the neck of the disrespectful alcoholic. Of any creature he had come across, the dark elves were unmatched for their shockingly graceful speed, which meant time was percious.

[color=gray]“I believe the bard and his empress were throwing knives at you, my fine drunk friend.”[/color] 

Jargo pointed an accusing finger before offering the inebriated man a gentle nudge in the right direction, hoping to tip the first domino in line. [@Illogical Jim][@NorthernGR]

The proud joker than removed himself back against the bar to smear the remainder of the blood off his hand. His impossibly wide grin stretching further across his face as the smell of metallic iron and ethanol mixed into the air, knowing full well that even the least sensitive of noses could pick up the scent. Would it capture a werewolf? 

The demon envied himself as a magian and nodded his head. Inconspicuously he popped the tiny yellow body of a blood-drained finch into his rapidly gnashing mouth, silently thanking the avian for its performance before turning his attention on the final group. Jargo’s movements more like a happy dance at this point as he lovingly invaded the space of the youthful nobleman-- displaying a relaxed smile littered with thin bones and feathers. 

[color=gray]”Aren’t you the prettiest angel? Has the Maker called you down to Earth to play an undertaker?”[/color]

Unable to hold a dignified composure long, the demon snickered with blatant mockery and fiddled with the little prince’s neck ruffle then adding a rude noise and ripped himself away. [@Strafe]

Hastily, Jargo slinked back to his original stool at the middle of the bar and bubbled with anticipation, almost ready to burst at the seams. Waving a hand in the air, he gave a singsong  request before settling in for a show,

[color=gray]“Oh, Barmaster, could you fetch a broom and mop?”[/color] [@Mokley]

Again the luckmeister found himself waiting, feeling too clever for his own good and looking like the perfect idiot. Oops, had he forgotten? How well would the lady hunter and the newcomer handle the blood-fueled frenzy of an unbalanced siren? The thought made his body feel warm and tingly. [@BlackCat] [@karamonnom] [@AgentFallenSoul]

[color=gray][i]Let’s begin…[/i][/color]